"Papa? Papa, I goes back to my room now," Toki whispered.
Charles pulled himself up out of sleep. The triplets were stirring, but Toki was sliding out from under the sheets, Deady Bear still tucked under his arm.
"Oh. Okay. Um. You're a good boy, Toki."
He always tried to end a bad night with that sentence. Whatever was going on in the young Norwegian's head, hearing those words seemed to help. Toki smiled.
"Loves you, Papa," he whispered in Charles' ear.
"I love you, too, Toki," the manager returned.
The rhythm guitarist paused, looking over at the triplets who stretched and yawned and cuddled back into the pillows.
"Papa . . . . are dey Mama?" he asked.
"Ah . . . ." Charles cast a look over his lovers. "I . . . uh . . . I'm . . . I – I don't know yet, Toki."
"Okays. Let's me know when you figures its out."
Toki straightened and let himself out of the room, shutting the door behind him. The CFO let out a long breath. Here it came . . .
"What's wrong with him?" Hope asked quietly.
"Oh . . . . . a lot," Charles sighed.
"His father abused him, didn't he?" Mercy said. "That's why he has those scars. And that's why he's found a new father."
Charles nodded.
"What about his mother?"
"I don't know how complicit his mother was in the abuse," Charles admitted. "Toki actually goes to therapy more than any of the other band members. He just . . . needs a lot of help. And sometimes he needs a father; a real one that will let him be weak and make mistakes."
"Your devotion to the band is making more and more sense," Faith said. "They really are like your children."
Faith and Hope stared up at the ceiling. Charles was about to prompt a comment out of them – it was never a good thing when they got super-quiet – but was interrupted by the sound of crying.
Mercy was curled up with her face in her pillow, sobbing hysterically.
"Mercy?"
"Sh-she had that beautiful baby boy and-and she let his father do that to him! She should have protected him! She was his mother!"
"Mercy . . ."
Charles pulled her up out of her pillow and held her while she cried.
"I'll . . . I'll never have a beautiful baby boy like him . . ." she whimpered.
"Don't say that," Charles chided.
"I'm th - thirty-four, I'm single, I'm a freak who wants to share her love with her sisters. I'm never going to have children, Charles."
Charles Offdensen was silent for a long while.
"Don't say that," he finally said.
"Jesus Christ, tell her you love her!" Matthias cried. "Tell her she'll make a wonderful mother! Tell her you'd love to have children with her!"
"Trouble in paradise?" JB inquired, offering him a mango.
"Mercy's just having a little backlash; I had to crank her mothering instinct up so high when Toki crawled into bed with them I'm surprised she didn't start lactating on the spot," Conway said, biting into the proffered fruit.
"Nice!"
"The triplets were a find, for me and for Charles, but damn he is not making it easy to keep the love flowing."
Matthias watched the quad interacting on his phone.
"Mercy's drowning in maternal frustration, Faith is realizing just how tight the bond between Charles and the boys is and Hope is feeling . . . well, hopeless. The boss is not helping himself out here."
"Maybe you jumped on the triplets a little too soon," JB offered.
"Maybe. Then again, I don't think you should be critiquing anyone in that area."
The American Cupid cast a look over to the ancient promenade, where Nathan Explosion was flat out on his back and snoring.
"Shush; he's going to make me a household name."
"What about Skwisgaar?"
"Like he needs any help," JB snorted. "Though I will take the credit for it, no problem!"
"What about Murderface?"
"Oh fuck him; he's got all he's going to get for a charm bracelet. He's on his own now."
William Murderface awake slowly. When he was awake enough to move, he shifted to the side and let out a huge fart.
"Jesus," a feminine voice giggled. "That's a hell of a thing t' wake up to!"
Murderface grunted and rolled onto his side. There was a long, rippling noise and a gust of hot air rushed up his leg. His eyes popped open.
"Did you jusht fucking fart on me?" he asked weakly.
"Couldn't fuckin' resist!" Dixie laughed.
She rolled out of bed and picked up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the bedside table. Still completely naked, she slid open the glass door to the balcony and lit the first cigarette of the day.
"Oh don't act like it wasn't funny," she drawled.
"Holy Shit . . ." Murderface said weakly. "You're a chick!"
Double D took a long pull on her cigarette and gave him a look.
"Thanks for noticin'. Next time warn a girl about them callouses. I'm'a be walkin' bowlegged for a few days."
"Don't be fuckin' grateful or anything," the bassist spat, rolling out of bed. "Like you shcore a lot of big name celebritiesh. Or just shcore period."
"I do all right," Dixie protested.
"Yeah, right," Murderface growled, finding a likely wall.
There were a few minutes of silence. When William turned around, Double D was still leaning against the glass door, drinking a glass of something dark. Her cigarette hung limply from her mouth.
"Did you just piss against my wall instead a' goin' three steps around the corner and usin' th' john?" Dixie asked.
"What? It ain't actually your wall!"
Double D closed her eyes, pulled a deep draught off of her smoke and blew it out.
"Y'know what? I was gonna say I'm here for a couple days longer if'n you want'd t' fuck again but maybe you just better go."
"Fine. I don't need to shtick around a charity cashe like – you were going to fuck me again? I don't shupposhe you'd be up for a quickie?"
"Get out."
Murderface wrenched open the door and started out into the hallway, cursing the lost opportunity. Just inside the door, he paused.
"Uh . . . I'll never forget you?" he offered.
The bassist slammed the door shut as the half-full glass shattered against the door frame. He wandered down the hallway towards the lobby. After a minute, Dixie's door opened and she appeared holding Murderface's discarded swim trunks between thumb and forefinger. She tossed the trunks out into the hall and lit another cigarette.
"No sir, Mr. William Murderface, you ain't never gonna forget me," she declared.
"Toki's accounted for. Pickles is still sleep – unconscious. Skwisgaar is still . . . engaged with his skanks. Where's Murderface?" Charles asked, standing in the hotel restaurant.
Three very subdued triplets – man, why had he gotten drunk enough to invite them? – picked at breakfast while Charles' own meal was practically untouched. Before he could send out Gears to hunt for Murderface, the bassist strolled into view butt naked.
"'Morning, assholes!" he said cheerfully. "Guessh who got laid lasht night? Oh, are thoshe taquitoesh?"
Without waiting for an answer, the band bassist picked a likely-looking roll of tortilla from Mercy's plate and bit into it. The red clad sister considered this for a minute, then sighed.
"William, we're at breakfast! Where are your clothes?" Charles asked.
"How the fuck should I know?" Murderface snarled. "What are you afraid your chicksh will abandon you when they shee a real man'sh dick?"
Faith took off her glasses and started rubbing her eyes.
"William . . ." Charles sighed.
"Cheesus fuckin' Christ, dood!" Pickles howled, coming into the restaurant leaning heavily on Toki. "People're tryin' to eat! Put some fuckin' pants on!"
"Why yous walks in nakeds in fronts of Charles's ladies? You likes a dog, Murderface!"
"Fuck you, Toki, I'll take that shit from Picklesh, but not from you, asshole!"
The entire party paused as Skwisgaar ran into the restaurant. He was just as naked as Murderface, but a lot more eye-pleasingly so. The Swede pelted through the dining room and into the kitchen. There were a few startled cries and some angry Spanish. After a moment, the lead guitarist ran back through the dining room, his arms full of chocolate syrup, whipped cream and maraschino cherries.
"At some point, dehydration is going to become an issue, Skwisgaar!" Charles yelled after him.
The manager turned to look at his ragtag band of savages. Murderface was still arguing with Toki. Pickles had taken Charles' empty seat at the table; after three bites of eggs, he turned and threw up over Hope's sandaled feet. The green clad sister looked seriously ready to cry.
Charles ran a hand through his hair.
"Where the hell is Nathan?"
"I had a vision," Nathan said calmly, staring out across the ruins of San Grevasio. "The goddess Ixchel appeared to me. She said if I rebuilt her temple and brought her back to glory, my dick would be so hard I could fuck concrete."
"Nathan . . ."
"So we definitely have to do that. Build a new temple, I mean. So, get to it," the front man ordered.
Charles took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. A demand for the lead singer's whereabouts had resulted in the entire band – minus Skwisgaar – heading off to the ruined temple. Pickles had, yet again, insisted that the triplets accompany them. They were poking around the ruins while Pickles, Toki, Murderface, and Charles stared down at Nathan Explosion, who was sitting cross-legged on the ground, staring off in the distance.
For some reason he was petting a large rock.
"Nathan, we can't rebuild this place; it's a World Heritage Site. It has to be preserved as it is," Charles sighed.
"Oh. Well, we can build one across the street, can't we?"
Charles looked down the entrance across the single street bisecting the island to acres of jungle.
"I suppose. . . . . A . . . uh . . . a temple, huh?"
"It has to have a sacred pool so people can throw in jewelry and get boners in return," Nathan stated seriously. "And . . . like, she's a goddess of chicks, too, so chicks have to like this. You may need to hire outside help for that one."
"Excuse me?" Charles said.
"Well. I mean, you got these chicks who are really fuckin' weird to start with and they just . . . . they don't look happy to me," Nathan observed. "So, you know, maybe hire somebody who's good with women."
Charles jaw worked soundlessly as Pickles and Toki snickered.
"Excuse me," Charles began. "But as the only one present who's even capable of having a relationship for more than –"
"HEY! YOU IN THE BLUE! COME HERE A MINUTE!" Nathan roared.
Faith turned from the display she had been reading and paced across the courtyard to where most of Dethklok waited.
"Yes?" she inquired coolly.
"Are you happy?" Nathan asked.
Faith regarded him for a moment, flicked her gaze up to Charles, then back to Nathan.
"No comment," she declared.
"Whuh-Oh!" Murderface declared with an evil grin.
"Oh noes, you ams in troubles!" Toki declared.
"Dood, what'd you do?" Pickles asked.
"I haven't done anything!" Charles protested. "If the triplets aren't happy right now, it's not because of me!"
The tiny snort that escaped Faith's lips seemed far louder than it should have been.
"Oh. Apologize," Nathan hissed, looking up at Charles.
"For what?"
"Anything! It doesn't matter!" the front man blurted.
"I haven't done anything!" Charles repeated. "You boys are the one that have flashed, sworn at them and thrown up on them! They're not use to . . . . partying as hard as you! That's why they're miserable!"
"Hey, I bought Hope new shoes!" Pickles protested. "I know how chicks care about shoes."
"Actually," Faith said in an ice cold tone. "Between the three of us, we've served eighteen years in the U.S. Marine Corps. And we were raised by a Marine combat instructor. Trust us, Charles; we can handle gross."
"See? It's not us!" Nathan growled.
"It's . . . it's not?" Charles said.
"No, it's not Dethklok. You called us up, drunk off your ass, after we hadn't even heard from you in two weeks and rushed us here – then you spend every waking moment trying to keep us away from the band! I'm not even going to go into last night's conversation! Hope and I had to take off of work for this! Mercy might not even have a job when we get home! Why exactly did you invite us here? Did you just want something to fuck after a night out with your boys?"
The band members slowly backed away from the angry woman. Even Nathan somehow managed to get to his feet without attracting attention to join his band mates, still holding his rock.
" . . . I wanted to see you," Charles said quietly.
"Really? Then why are you acting like we're something that needs to be hidden away? Like we're some dirty little secret?" Faith demanded.
"Well, you kind of are," Nathan pointed out.
"Do not help me," Charles ordered.
Hope and Mercy crept up on the scene. Normally the other two would have interceded on Charles' behalf, but this time they hung back.
"When we started this relationship you told me that it had to be kept under wraps or else Mercy could get fired from her job!" the manager shot back. "I thought I was respecting your privacy!"
"Yeah, Mercy told me that, too!" Nathan offered. "I'm a witness!"
"Stop helping!" Charles spat.
"Yes, because you're just so considerate of our time after not seeing us for three months!"
"That is a different issue! Don't change the subject!"
"The chick in red is crying," Nathan pointed out.
Mercy had her arms crossed tightly over her chest, a few tears slipping down her cheeks. She waved vaguely, as if she didn't want anyone to pay attention to her.
"She cries all the time!" Charles barked.
As soon as the words were out of his mouth the manager realized how horrible they sounded. He was only repeating what he'd heard Hope and Faith say a million times. The difference was, every other time before that, Charles had been the one to cuddle Mercy and tell her it was okay, she was just sensitive. Now he just sounded like an asshole.
Mercy turned away from the group.
"Oh, you dick," Pickles said quietly.
"Th – th- that . . . I didn't . . . that came out wrong!" the manager stammered.
"She was ams in de army?" Toki asked doubtfully.
"Do you know what I would do t' have a set a' triplets worship me like dat?" Pickles asked.
"Jeshush, what an asshole," Murderface growled. "You don't need him, shweetie; I could treat you right."
Charles pushed through the band, grabbed Mercy's arm and gently spun her into a tight embrace.
"I'm sorry; I apologize. It's okay to cry; you're just sensitive," he murmured.
Mercy whimpered out something that might have been words.
"See? I told you he couldn't keep up with three chicks. He couldn't even take care of business with one," Nathan growled.
Charles ignored this and held out his hand for Hope. After a moment, she joined the tight embrace.
"I'm sorry; I'll pay more attention to you three. Give me a chance to fix it," Charles murmured.
Two sweet ladies twined hard against Charles' chest. Yes; this was the answer. His triplets were feeling neglected. The manager held out his hand for Faith. The blue clad sister gave him a dirty look.
"Please, Faith," he said. "Give me a chance to fix it."
Reluctantly, Faith joined the hug and four people very much in love held and clutched a each other close.
"Heeeeeeeeey," Nathan said slowly. "You three are chicks! You can design the temple! You're hired!"